If Tomorrow Spoke…

If tomorrow spoke, it would not shout.

It would arrive barefoot, quiet as dew resting on the edge of a leaf.

It would sit beside me before the sun remembers its duty, and say

“I am not your promise, I am your possibility.”

It would not carry answers wrapped in golden certainty,

But questions, soft, persistent, like a child tugging at your sleeve.

“Will you begin again?” it would ask.

“Will you forgive what yesterday forgot to?”

“Will you hold your own heart as gently as you hold your dreams?”

If tomorrow spoke, it would not wait for perfection.

It would open its palms, scatter light in unfinished corners, and whisper

“Step in, even with trembling feet.”

For tomorrow is not a destination, nor a neatly folded plan.

It is a door that only opens inward, when you choose to move.

And if I dared to answer, I would say

“I am still learning to hope, till learning to rise, but I am here.”

And tomorrow, smiling unseen, would simply reply

“That is enough.”